


Calling To You

by MissViolet



Series: On Tour [3]
Category: Led Zeppelin, Rock Music RPF
Genre: 1990s, Backstage, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Candles, Champagne, Dessert & Sweets, Dinner, Dirty Talk, Hotel Sex, Leather Trousers, M/M, Marijuana, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rock Stars, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:47:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25310350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissViolet/pseuds/MissViolet
Summary: Jimmy and Robert are touring together in the mid-90s, re-capturing some of that old-time magic.
Relationships: Jimmy Page/Robert Plant
Series: On Tour [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833313
Comments: 22
Kudos: 30





	Calling To You

**Author's Note:**

> There’s no plot whatsoever, just shamelessly filthy middle-aged rock star porn. Don’t say you weren’t warned.

The night was hot, and the show was intense. How he had missed this synchronicity with Robert, this chemistry! Robert in his tight leather pants, the frilly pirate shirt half-open, giving himself to the music so completely, the same way Jimmy did, and together, they burned even brighter. Only Robert’s voice could drive him to the greatest highs of virtuosity, could drag those otherworldly notes from his guitar. His shirt was soaked; sweat dripped from his hair; during one intense solo he was so immersed in the music that he actually drooled. He simply lost track of his physical body, of his own saliva. He thought that if Robert wanted him to, he could probably have him crying and coming on stage too. He didn’t even care. Let them all see how this partnership still sizzled.

The massive audience sang every word to the songs, cheered madly, whipped their tee-shirts above their heads. They gave them what they wanted for the encore, all the old hits, and the thrill of the crowd was contagious. But after they took their bows, he felt that curious drop of the stomach, his body slowed, but his heart still pounded. The feeling was almost like a sudden bout of depression, but his adrenaline was still spiked, his nerves rattled, and for some reason his cock was always half-hard after particularly intense shows. He was physically drained but mentally keyed-up, a strangely conflicted, energized state that had steered him into a lot of trouble over the years. But all that was behind him; tonight there was only the anchor of Robert’s arm slung around his shoulders as they exited the stage. 

Where Jimmy was drenched and drained, clothing and hair plastered to his body, Robert glowed, his face shiny with sweat, his golden locks still perfectly curled. A hot masculine scent of sweat and leather rose from him, thrilling Jimmy’s senses. Robert didn’t ask, just followed him into his dressing room, locked the door, and took him into his arms. “You were fantastic,” he said, kissing his hair, his cheek.

“Think so?” Robert’s compliments always set his heart fluttering. 

“Mmmm, yes, they loved you out there. I could hardy hear you for all the cheering,” Robert said, kissing him, sliding his hands under his drenched shirt and up his torso. 

“I’m dripping. Let me dry off,” Jimmy said.

“I don’t want you to dry off.”

“I was drooling all over myself out there.”

“I saw. It was hot. You were so down in the groove.” There would be no drying off, for Robert was kissing him, stroking him, hugging him close, close enough to feel Jimmy’s hot bulge, not caring at all that his shirt was drenched with sweat and spit. 

The buckle of Robert’s belt was pressing into him, rocking, grinding. His lips demanded another kiss, and then another. “Like old times, eh, babe?” Robert whispered. He was just as keyed-up as Jimmy, whose passion was all mixed together: Robert, Led Zeppelin, the guitar, the energy of the huge crowd. How many middle-aged men got to go back in time, feel even a taste of what they had felt at 25? He opened his mouth, and Robert kissed him deeply, murmuring, “Just wait till I get you back to the hotel.”

“I can’t wait,” Jimmy told him. “I want you now.” Tired though he was from playing, he craved Robert’s touch. He kissed him eagerly, and slipped the band from his golden hair so he could run his fingers through the thick curls. His kisses were aggressive, insistent. His hot little tongue licked at Robert’s lips, demanded entrance, and he held the back of his head as their kiss grew deeper and wetter.

“Right here, baby?” Robert whispered. “Take you right here in the dressing room?” It wasn’t really a question; God knows they’d had plenty of sex in dressing rooms over the years. He knew Jimmy wanted it; his whole body was tense, straining with anticipation. He just liked saying it aloud. 

More kisses, the biting kind, and Robert steered him over to the sofa. He pushed the pillows aside, and finally, with fingers trembling with anticipation, he unbuttoned Jimmy’s soaking wet shirt and peeled it off. “You should wear something lighter. A vest, or at least leave it unbuttoned.”

“My arms are too thin. No one wants to see me shirtless.”

“ _I_ want to see you shirtless,” Robert reassured him, caressing his arms, his chest. He looked at Jimmy with smoldering eyes, and the years fell away. He was still the curly-haired youth with the wild voice who showed up on his doorstep in Pangbourne all those decades ago. 

Robert unbuttoned his jeans, hooked his thumbs through Jimmy’s wildly-patterned underwear, and slid both down his legs. He kneeled beside the sofa, caressed Jimmy from head to toe, his fingertips ghosting across his collarbone and shoulders, down to his belly, skimming across his thighs, and then lightly, ever so lightly, skimmed across his cock, making it stiffen under the delicate touch. 

“I want you now,” said Jimmy again, needy and impatient. There was a deep-down ache inside him, a need to rush through all Robert’s tenderness and straight to the hard and breathtaking love he knew was in store for him. 

“We need something slippery,” Robert said. 

“It’ll be fine. Just do it,” said Jimmy dismissively. His heart fluttered wildly, and his pulse skittered. 

“Don’t be so hasty, darling. It’ll hurt,” said Robert, not knowing that Jimmy wanted it to hurt, wanted to be taken, hard and fast and selfish. He got up to look around the well-appointed dressing room, leaving Jimmy on the sofa, naked and hot with longing. 

Times had changed; musicians were no longer housed in dingy little dressing rooms with a urinal and sink in the corner. This one was equipped with a well-stocked fridge, an electric kettle, boxes of tea and coffee, a Hollywood-style lighted vanity, comfortable sofas and chairs, and a luxurious bathroom with a shower, where Robert found a tray of complimentary botanical toiletries. He picked up the hand lotion, read the label aloud: “Silk and Avocado Body Lotion. How luxe!”

He returned to the sofa, started to unbutton his leather trousers, but Jimmy told him to leave them on. He wanted to feel Robert’s leather-clad legs driving into him, feel the scrape of the zipper and buckle. Robert raised one eyebrow, quirked his mouth in that pouty little expression that Jimmy knew and loved. It meant _you’re going to get it now, my darling_. 

“Take it out,” Robert told him, drawing close enough for Jimmy’s eager hands unzip him, pull out his big hard cock. He leaned forward to suck him but Robert, afraid of coming too soon, pulled away. He coated his cock with the fancy lotion, coated his fingers, and Jimmy’s cock, too, and for good measure, he gave it several loving strokes, smearing the slick lotion up and down, making his cock jump and stiffen while Jimmy panted and thrust his hips eagerly. 

“Don’t tease,” Jimmy whispered, so Robert kneeled over him, pushed a slick finger right up inside him, making him groan softly. He knew just how to stroke him, his finger finding the very spot that made his legs go weak, the molten fire spreading from deep down inside to his belly and thighs and quivering legs. 

“Just… _fuck_ …do it to me!” he cried out, teeth gritted with the wicked delight of Robert’s clever finger teasing and stroking him from the inside out. 

“All right,” said Robert soothingly, withdrawing his finger. “You need it bad, you hot little crumpet,” he told him, and his eyes flashed, his pretty pink lips tightened with lust. He eased his cock gently into Jimmy, pushing just the tip of it, slow and gentle, but Jimmy was impatient, he jerked his hips, took him deep with a soft grunt of pain. 

“Easy, love,” Robert breathed out. “Not so fast.”

Jimmy did not want to go slow. He wanted to feel it hard and fast and rough, he wanted Robert to take him; he longed for it. Instead Robert kissed him softly, soothingly, jogging his hips. His leathers scraped against Jimmy’s thighs, the belt biting into his hip-bone. It was mind-blowingly slow, luscious pleasure, and Jimmy tossed his head, moaning with delight. 

Robert bent down for a deep and soul-stirring kiss, he rocked himself into Jimmy unhurriedly, nudging him closer to an unspeakable bliss. “It’s better slow,” he whispered in his ear. And then he proceeded to work him up into a fine state, pushing and pushing his big hard cock into him, so that it scraped and burned and ached sweetly, and his legs quivered as the soft moans broke from his lips. 

Jimmy was dying, his soul carried away by the delicious sensations of Robert’s big, hard cock nudging against the very spot that made his breath come fast, his cock throb against his belly. Robert covered him, thrust into him, his muscular hips driving him into the cushions, while Jimmy lay trembling with delight, pinned helplessly under his strong arms. “Oh, ohhhh!” he cried out, his passion rising. 

“How does my big cock feel, darling?” Robert huffed out. His face was flushed red, beautiful mouth slack with pleasure.

Jimmy could barely respond; he was mindless, he moaned something incomprehensible, the pleasure washing over him as he wrapped his legs around Robert’s leather-clad ones, pulling him close, driving him to fuck him harder, deeper. His legs gripped Robert’s thighs, his arms wrapped around his torso, he grabbed a fistful of the golden curls and pulled Robert’s lips into his own, kissing deeply, passionately, tonguing him, locked in intimate embrace, pulling his hair in a frenzy of lust. 

Now at last Robert began to take him in the way he had craved: hard, fast, and rough, making the springs of the sofa creak as they bounded. “Oh, yes, oh, yes,” Jimmy moaned. Robert kissed passionately, biting his lips, and that tipped Jimmy right over the edge. “Fuck me hard,” he gasped as his hot, fiery climax tore through him, his arse twitching around Robert’s hard cock, his own throbbing tool pulsing out its juices, the come jetting so far that a drop splashed on his own lips. 

Robert was merciless, grinding into him, milking out every last drop of spend, until Jimmy was trembling and boneless and moaning softly, and only then did Robert allow himself to come, with hard sob of relief, his arse shaking as he pumped his cream deep inside Jimmy, until it ran down his thighs. 

They kissed softly, catching their breath, heartbeats slowing, Robert still moaning softly, shuddering with aftershocks of his delicious climax. He rubbed Jimmy’s come-splattered belly and chest with satisfaction. More soft and tender kisses, speaking volumes without saying any words. At last Jimmy sat up and fished around for a cigarette. Robert zipped up his pants and got a bottle of mineral water from the fridge. He shared it with Jimmy, who perched naked on the sofa, puffing away.

“Are you going to the party the orchestra is throwing?” Robert asked him. He was sitting next to him, rubbing his bare thigh possessively, affectionately.

“Nah. I thought I’d go back to the hotel and, you know….” Jimmy didn’t know, not really. He thought he might sit up in bed with a cup of tea and read Nietzsche.

“What if we go back to your room and send for room service and lie around all night in each other’s arms?” suggested Robert, ever the romantic. Jimmy smiled slowly. It was exactly what he wanted to do. 

They put their clothing back on and walked to the waiting car. In Brazil there were no photographers waiting, no fans lined up. The police kept a tight control of the area of any celebrated visitors. It was a country that treated the wealthy and famous with special consideration. Their feet barely touched the ground as they were whisked from the venue to their hotel. The car was lush and comfortable, with a dark privacy screen blocking out the driver. Robert sat close to him, holding his hand. They both badly needed a shower. 

Fortunately the hotel was nearby and the reception in the lobby was as low-key as when they left the stadium: no one was there. Paparazzi were kept away, and the hotel concierge treated them with respectful indifference. They had complete privacy as they collected their room keys and went up to Jimmy’s suite. It was a big, lush room, befitting a rock star, with green silk-lined walls, cream-colored drapes, and a maroon plush sectional sofa in the seating area, a kitchenette, a big bedroom, and a balcony that wrapped the length of the suite, with a view of the turquoise white sand beach. Everything had been freshened and tidied as if Jimmy had never slept there. There was a bowl of tropical fruit on the table, the refrigerator restocked with fizzy water and white wines. 

Jimmy stripped off his dirty clothing, stuffed it into a drawstring bag with a LAVESE POR FAVOR / PLEASE LAUNDER tag attached to it. He walked naked into the bathroom, turned on the tap in the big glass-walled shower, filling it with hot steam. “Are you coming?” he asked. 

Robert stripped off his clothing eagerly. They showered together, washing each other, shampooing their hair, kissing and caressing under the spray. Jimmy felt Robert’s hard muscles with pleasure. His shoulders had broadened, his arms thickened, since he first showed up on Jimmy’s doorstep in Pangbourne all those years ago. He was no longer the slender golden-haired youth, but a grown farmer with a working man’s strong muscles. 

Robert, too, couldn’t keep his hands off Jimmy, caressing him, grabbing his waist, kissing his shoulders, his neck, pinching his nipples, flicking them, sending a throb to his groin. The delight Robert took in touching his soft, middle-aged body made Jimmy feel young again, and he groaned with pleasure as they exchanged watery kisses. 

At last he turned off the faucet. He was going to have his golden god again, oh, yes, but not standing up. They were too old for that, he thought wryly. Why stand when they could lie in a big king-sized bed? They toweled off, and Robert put on the plush hotel robe, and Jimmy his striped Egyptian cotton pyjamas.

“I’m famished,” said Jimmy. “First the show, then you in my dressing room, wearing me out. Will you order for us, darling?” Jimmy asked, handing Robert the room service menu. “They say the steaks are very good here.”

Robert, after a brief glance, picked up the room phone, ordered two steaks, salads, fried plantains, and _tres leches_ cake for dessert. And a bottle of vintage Dom Perignon. While they waited for it to arrive, they lay on the bed under the ceiling fan, feeling the blast of the air conditioning and the pleasure of being clean and comfortable after hours of sweltering performance followed by some very hot and sweaty love-making. 

The food arrived, and it was even fancier than Robert had expected. No less than two waiters and a concierge were required to lay the white cloth over the small dining table and arrange the silver-covered dishes. They uncorked the Champagne, left it tilted in a silver ice bucket. They even lit a candle and put a long-stemmed rose in a glass vase. Robert gave the concierge the bag of laundry, tipped them all generously, and they departed as silently as they had come.

“Look at this. It’s so romantic. But how did they know?” Jimmy asked, fingering the rose in the vase.

“They didn’t know that I just fucked your brains out, darling, if that’s what you’re asking. I think they assumed that steaks and Champagne for two have got to be lovers.” Robert poured them each a glass, and they toasted each other before drinking the cold, refreshing phiz. 

The sat down to the fine meal, the steaks tender and juicy, rubbed with chili and spices, the fried plantains crispy, salty, and sweet. Jimmy ate heartily, and Robert watched him, looking pleased. He hadn’t always taken care of himself, spent years of hard living and eating very little except a bizarre liquid diet of his own invention. But tonight he had burned a lot of calories on stage, and their hot little frolic afterwards, and now Robert was glad to see him replenishing himself. 

Jimmy was tempted by the _tres leches_ cake; Robert had ordered it because he knew he had a sweet tooth. He scraped up the soft, milky cake with enjoyment, licking the cream from his delicately-shaped lips. Then he finished Robert’s piece, too, and finally pushed his plate aside with satisfaction.

“That was delicious,” he said, as Robert stacked the dishes on trays and carried them outside to leave in the hallway for housekeeping. Jimmy went to the bedroom and returned with a fat joint and a silver Ronson lighter. He held it up to Robert, and, taking their Champagne glasses, together they went outside and sat on the balcony, looking out at the dark city, and at the ocean sparkling in the distance. 

They were sitting on a stone bench, passing the joint back and forth, their thighs so close as to be touching. Jimmy was filled with a tremendous sense of well-being. He was pleasantly full of good food, buzzed from the weed and Champagne, and still euphoric after what was one of their best shows. They were a solid team, and when Robert stubbed the joint out and turned to kiss him, it seemed the evening just couldn’t get any better.

“Are you too tired for another go?” Robert whispered as he kissed him. 

“Too tired to be on top, I think,” said Jimmy with a lazy smile. “Can you think of another way?” 

“I can think of a dozen different ways. What if I ride your hard cock, darling, would you like that?”

Jimmy caught his breath. His heart was suddenly pounding with anticipation. “Rob, honey, the things you say. You drive me wild.” 

Robert took him by the hand, led him back inside, into the big bedroom. He swept aside the silk coverlet and pressed Jimmy down gently on the huge bed. “Let’s take our time now, eh, babe?” he said, and then he leaned down and kissed him again, sweetly and slowly. Then he shucked off his robe and lay down on top of Jimmy, pressing their bodies together, and began to kiss him in earnest. Deep, wet kisses, and his tongue ravished Jimmy’s mouth, until his tired body began to respond, as it always did to Robert’s touch. His breath quickened, his heart began to pound and his cock stiffened and throbbed against the thin cotton of his pyjamas. He was transported by the rough physical pleasure of being trapped, pinned to the mattress under Robert’s strong body, 

Robert unbuttoned his pyjama top, stroked it off his shoulders, ran his hands up and down his torso. He stroked his hair, smoothed it away from his face, looking down at him with love and lust in his eyes. “So beautiful,” he whispered to him. Jimmy wrapped his arms around his waist, pulled him down so he could feel how hard he was, how he ached for his touch. Robert, too, was stiff again, and he ground his erection against Jimmy’s, making them both pant with lust. He kissed his neck, lightly touching his tongue over all the sensitive places, making Jimmy shiver, and then he moved down slowly to kiss his collarbone, his chest, and his nipples, which were exquisitely sensitive. Jimmy moaned with delight as Robert licked and tongued and bit them gently. His fingers carded through Robert’s thick golden hair, holding him close to him, not wanting to let him go. But Robert slid downward, kissing his belly, biting his hipbones playfully.

At last he put his hot mouth to Jimmy’s cock straining under his cotton pyjamas, blew hot breath, and he sucked him through the fabric. Robert always was such a delicious tease, dragging it out, making Jimmy absolutely lose it. He watched the pretty pink mouth raking his hard length, making the fabric wet, until he squirmed with pleasure and clutched handfuls of his golden curls. 

“Just a moment, darling,” said Robert, coming up to kiss his lips. Jimmy kissed him passionately, his face flushed, his heart thumping madly with exhilarating lust and love. Robert sat up and with a mischievous smile whisked his pyjama pants down his legs and tossed them aside. “There, that’s better. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” 

He went into the bathroom, returned with a fancy little bottle from a London apothecary. He sat on the bed, picked up Jimmy’s right hand, felt the palm and each knuckle with his sensitive fingers. “Is this how you keep your lily-white hands so soft?” 

It was, in fact, the sweet oil Jimmy liked to rub into his hands, especially after hours of playing. Robert, of course, had other uses in mind. He picked up his left hand, his fret hand, and kissed the calluses on his fingertips. “Except these. They tell your life’s story.” He cupped Jimmy’s hand, poured some of the oil into it, steered it towards his own hard cock. Jimmy stroked himself with slippery fingers. The oil dripped down his cock and soaked into the dark thatch of hair between his legs. It felt so nice, especially with Robert watching. Just like old times, all the naughty games they had played as youths. Soft little moans broke from his lips as he stroked himself, until Robert stopped his hand.

“Save some for me, darling,” he said, straddling him. They were so loose and easy with the weariness after the long show, the dressing room frolic, the good food and wine and weed, that Jimmy fairly slipped right into him, until Robert with a soft grunt had bottomed out and he paused, his head hanging, golden hair shielding his face. 

“Is it too much, babe?” Jimmy asked. Robert was tight, so tight, it was maddening. He wanted to fuck him wildly; he trembled with coiled restraint. 

“No,” Robert huffed out. His cheeks were red, his mouth open in a little O as if he were surprised. Jimmy grasped his cock with his oily hand, stroking, loving the feel of his truly massive tool sliding through his slippery fingers, as the oil dripped down to the golden thatch between his legs. His slippery thumb traced the very spot that made Robert groan, and sink his arse faster upon Jimmy’s hard cock, stabbing himself with it. Jimmy didn’t let go of his cock, but circled his fingers, made him fuck himself with it, faster and faster as Robert gripped him in his strong thighs, moaned with impending bliss.

“Oh, Jimmy,” Robert sighed, and he leaned down for a wet, sloppy kiss, careless with teeth and tongue, until he couldn’t kiss for moaning. His cock, trapped between their slick bodies, throbbed with delight. Jimmy grabbed his arse, felt him quivering as he thrust his hips slowly, fucking him masterfully. Oh, he knew how to please his golden boy; this was not his first rodeo. 

Robert coming apart was a beautiful sight. His strong arse bounced up and down relentlessly on Jimmy’s hard cock, his faced flushed bright red, beautiful pink lips parted. “Oh, honey. I’m coming!” he moaned, and his come shot out, coating Jimmy’s belly. He helped him along with his hand, milking his cock, as Robert trembled and sighed and his sweet little arse twitched around Jimmy’s cock, nearly driving him mad. 

At last when he was satisfied that he couldn’t wring another drop from Robert’s spent cock, he let himself go, let the tightness that had been wound up inside him to release. He sucked in a long, wet breath as his cock throbbed in Robert’s arse, and then, with a luscious, drawn-out moan, he started to come. His legs shook with the exquisite agony of his furious spend. Robert, remembering his promise to ride him, fucked him hard, bouncing up and down on his cock, almost hurting him, on that borderline between pleasure and pain, until they were both pushing themselves far beyond the point of orgasm. Finally Jimmy was utterly fucked-out and with a cry grabbed Robert’s hips, stilled him. 

Robert collapsed on top of him, sticky and breathless. Jimmy held him tight, stroked his back, kissed him again and again, sweet and soft and spent. They were both quite devastated; coming a second time after the blazing-hot concert performance was physically draining. Neither could speak until they caught their breath and their wildly-beating hearts subsided. 

Finally Robert said “Not bad for two old codgers, eh, darling?” and kissed him, and Jimmy laughed, because they had just fucked like horny teenagers, and for the second time in a matter of hours. 

The weight of him, so delicious while they were fucking, became too much for Jimmy and he rolled out from under Robert with a sigh. They lay side by side, their sweaty bodies cooling under the ceiling fan. Robert reached over and held his hand. He liked to do that, was sentimental about hand-holding. With his other hand he took one of Jimmy’ absurdly-long cigarettes from the pack on the night-table, lit it and took a drag before passing it to him. 

“I thought you gave them up,” said Jimmy. Robert hadn’t let go of his hand, the old romantic.

“Just a puff now and then,” Robert said, lying rather easily. Jimmy knew he still smoked, he was just taking the piss. He passed the cigarette back and they shared it, coming down from their erotic high. 

“You can finish it, I’m too tired,” he said, passing Robert the rest of the cigarette before it dropped from his weary hand. He buried his face in Robert’s shoulder, loving the sweet comfort of him so close, their sticky thighs pressed together. 

Robert finished smoking while Jimmy dozed, nearly asleep, but not too sleepy to notice that Robert put his arm around him, pulled him close, kissed the top of his head. “I missed you so bad, babe. I’m glad you heard me calling to you,” he said.

“All you had to do was pick up the phone, you know,” said Jimmy sleepily. He delicately refrained from mentioning a certain blonde look-a-like singer with whom he had been preoccupied.

Robert’s arm tightened around him, and he kissed the top of his head. “What if I steal you away? We could rent a cabana on one of those private white sand beaches, spend a few days alone.”

“Beyond the river, over the sea?”

“To our castle of love,” Robert agreed. He was also sleepy. It had been a long, exhausting day. He felt himself unwinding. Eyes closed, his breathing slowed; he was on the verge of drifting off.

“I’d go anywhere with you,” Jimmy replied after a long while, in a soft, tired, fucked-out voice, not sure if Robert had even heard until he felt his arms tightening, pulling him close, and he kissed his hair as Jimmy drifted off, secure and well-loved in the arms of his golden prince.

**Author's Note:**

> "I would like to think of our working relationship as very special. I’ve never had anyone else that I can approach with any sort of unusual musical idea - no matter how strange they might be - and receive immediate reactions. Robert and I have always had this understanding that is almost impossible to describe."
> 
> \- Jimmy Page 
> 
> "Well, I love Jimmy… I love him with my whole heart, really, because we’ve shared so many experiences… But he’s far… he’s a very wise man, he knows so much more than I about the things that mystify us all."
> 
> \- Robert Plant


End file.
